Steven Saylor - Raiders of the Nile

“Very well, Roman. The boy for the coins and the ruby necklace. Shall we begin?”

While the others looked on-even the Crocodile’s daughter stopped her strumming to watch-we began the game.

At first, it seemed that Fortuna smiled on me. My throws were good and my progress on the game board steady, while the Nabataean had a slow start. Beside me, Djet squirmed with excitement. The Crocodile hissed and nervously clapped his dark, scaly hands. The three Egyptian travelers, safely out of the game, drank more beer and cheered me on, glad to see the Nabataean bested.

Then everything changed. I threw the dice, and the worst possible sum came up. My progress on the board was reversed, while Obodas swiftly passed me. Each time I threw the dice, Djet moved his lips, muttering a silent prayer or incantation, but to no avail. I suffered one terrible throw after another, as the Nabataean sped toward the finish.

One throw remained. I cast the dice. Disaster! Obodas took his final turn and won the game.

With a lascivious smile, he crooked a finger and summoned Djet toward him.

“No!” I cried. But as I began to rise from the floor, the two sons of the Crocodile restrained me. They were stronger than they looked, and probably used to dealing with troublesome guests.

Obodas stood up, yawned, and stretched his arms while the bodyguard and the long-haired boy collected his takings. “Come, boy,” he said, for Djet, frowning and shaking his head, had not budged.

“Djet!” I whispered. He gave me a stricken look. “Forgive me,” I said.

Obodas, growing impatient, dispatched the bodyguard to fetch his new acquisition. The hulking brute stepped across the now-empty playing area, took Djet by the hand, and pulled the boy after him, yanking harder than was necessary.

“Careful!” said Obodas. He waved the bodyguard back, then put his arm around Djet. The gesture looked gentle at first, but I noticed that his hand was clamped firmly on Djet’s shoulder. “Come, boy. Your new master is weary, and my host has promised me the softest bed in all Canopus, stuffed with goose down.”

Again I tried to stand. Again the sons of the Crocodile restrained me.

Obodas and his little retinue made their way up the stairs. The Egyptian travelers, embarrassed for me, quickly vacated the room. The girl put away her instrument and vanished. The two sons let go of my shoulders, stepped back, and followed their sister.

No one remained in the room but the Crocodile and me.

“Time now to blow out the lamp,” he said.

“But…”

“Are you not weary and longing for rest?”

I shook my head. “I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

“No worry,” said the Crocodile. “I shall give you a sleeping draft, made from herbs that grow in the marshes of the Nile. You will sleep like a child, I promise.”

I finally got to my feet. My legs were stiff. My head ached. I touched my nearly empty coin purse. “I’m not sure I have enough money to-”

“Oh, never mind that! Always hungry for coins I may be, but I can be generous, as well. You shall have a fine room tonight, and a fine bed, at no charge.”

I sighed, confused by his kindness. Or perhaps it was not so confusing, after all. For keeping a wealthy customer amused all evening, my room and board were a small concession. The Nabataean would go to bed happy and probably leave his host a generous tip when he departed.

I was unsteady on my feet. The Crocodile helped me up the stairs, across the dim vestibule, and down a short hallway, where he showed me to my room. He helped me into my bed, and then produced the sleeping draft he had promised, uncorking a small glass vial to reveal a strange-smelling green concoction within.

After a moment’s hesitation, I drank it down, hoping it would bring forgetfulness, for a few hours at least, of the sorry mess I had made of things.

I sank into oblivion.

At some point in the night, I heard a shrill cry. Was it some nocturnal bird-or was it a boy, crying out in terror, or pain? Was it Djet?

Or did I only dream it? Agitated as I was by the scream, the draft had so stupefied me that I never fully woke, but seemed to hover in the darkness of my little room, semi-conscious, unable to move, with that boyish shriek echoing around me, growing quieter and quieter, until Somnus pulled me back into oblivion.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Someone was whispering loudly in my ear, and shaking my shoulder.

“Wake up, you half-witted Roman!”

My eyelids seemed to be pasted shut. With a great effort I managed to open them, then saw, by the faint light of a flickering lamp, the face that had been haunting my uneasy dreams. Did I still dream, or was I awake? Was it an apparition I saw, or the boy himself?

“Djet?” I said.

“Shhh! Lower your voice!”

“Is it really you?”

He narrowed his eyes and glowered at me, as if vexed by the sheer stupidity of such a question.

“But … what are you doing here?” I said.

“Waking you up, so that we can get away as quickly as possible. Out of bed, now, if you want to save your neck!”

Despite my growing alarm, I could not seem to fully waken. It was the sleeping draft, I thought, stuffing my head with cobwebs and filling my limbs with lead. I managed to roll from the bed, practically falling on the floor, then staggered to my feet.

Djet did his best to steady me. “You’re as heavy as a hippopotamus,” he complained, “but not nearly as graceful! Now, come!”

“Come where?”

“Anywhere, as long as it’s far from here. Pick up that sack and bring it with you. It’s too heavy for me. I’ve carried it as far as I can.”

He referred to a cloth sack roughly the size of his head, tied at the top with a bit of hempen rope. I picked it up. The weight was substantial, but not too heavy for a grown man to carry, slung over his shoulder. From within the bulging bag I heard the slithering, clanking sounds of metal sliding against metal. “What’s inside?”

“What do you think?”

“Coins?”

“Yes. All that you lost, and more. Now, come!”

I dropped the sack onto the bed. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Slowly, fitfully, my senses were returning to me. “Djet! It’s one thing to abscond with you in the middle of the night. I should never have used you for a wager. I should never have allowed that man to take you from the room! What was I thinking? If you’ve managed to escape him, good for you! I’ll do whatever I can to get you away from here. But if you’ve robbed him-”

“The coins are yours!”

“No, Djet. I lost them in the game. Fool that I was-”

“Are you coming, or not?”

I stared at the sack. “Perhaps … if I take only some of the coins, and leave the rest. We must have money to feed ourselves.…”

“Whatever you do, do it quickly!”

I tried to undo the knot and open the sack, but the rope was tightly tied. My head was still groggy from the sleeping draft, and my clumsy fingers refused to obey me. I grunted with frustration and gave up trying to untie the knot.

“What hour is it, Djet?”

“Nearly dawn, I think.”

I sighed. “If I’m to run off like a thief, taking you and the money, it would have been better to do so in the middle of the night, to give ourselves a head start. What if the Nabataean rises with the sun? He’ll see that you and the money are gone, and send his bodyguards after us.”

“No he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re all dead.”

For a long moment I simply stared at him. “Who is dead?”

“The Nabataean and his bodyguards. And the boy, as well.”

My blood ran cold. “Djet! What in the name of all the gods have you done?”